


Draconis americanus

by Mugatu



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Crossover, Daryl ships are emotional rather than physical, Gen, M/M, because he's a dragon, warnings for some period-typical racism sexism and homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-09-15 05:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16926984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mugatu/pseuds/Mugatu
Summary: Aaron stared at him, “Who’s Daryl?”Captain Rovia stared back, “My dragon.”“You named your dragon Daryl?”“He named himself Daryl,” Rovia said, lips quirking, “After a trapper he ate once.”Aaron froze. “Surely,” he said, “Surely you’re joking?” He might never have only seen a dragon up close the previous fall but he still knew for the tame breeds eating human flesh was as taboo as it would be for Aaron himself.Rovia’s lips quirked again, “I suppose he could’ve lied to me about that, but he’s not prone to lying, is my Daryl.”





	1. May 1, 1814. Savannah.

**Author's Note:**

> If the people coming from TWD fandom are confused here are some notes on the Temeraire series: Dragons are sentient creatures as intelligent as humans who form intense bonds with a specific person. Different cultures have different views on dragons, some see them as beasts of burden, others as tools of war, and still others value them as full members of society. Because indigenous peoples the world over have bonds with dragons it provides an equalizer to colonialism and imperialism–for example, the Tswana are a mighty African nation and eventually expel Europeans from their land and even invade the European Colonies in the New World to rescue their enslaved countrymen. The Inca Empire is a world power, and in North America a confederation of Native tribes supported the Revolution then used their dragons to force the colonist to accept them as equal citizens. Tecumseh is President in 1812, instead of Madison. Doesn’t mean everything is hunky dory and white people aren’t awful, but things are very different. On the off-chance any people are coming over from the Temeraire fandom then all you need to know about TWD universe is Paul "Jesus" Rovia is a beautiful angel who deserved better. Also, I've altered a few things about the North American Aerial Corps/dragon species.
> 
> Pinterest board: https://pin.it/ifuxpbxybyzwrx

Aaron spotted Captain Rovia immediately despite never having seen the man before nor having any notion of what he looked like. The aviator stood out from amongst the sailors swarming the docks as much as a raven would among a flock of doves, his unusual coat was enough to proclaim to the world his profession. The flying jackets of the United States Aerial Corps were knee length and made of dark grey leather, and Aaron’s first thought was how dreadfully hot the man must be in the humid Georgia weather.

The second thought that came to Aaron —once he’d gotten close enough to get a good look at the man’s face— was a soft, _Oh. Oh no._ Aaron stopped mid-stride; and he was thankful that Captain Rovia wasn’t looking in his direction but dreamily out over the river. It provided an opportunity for Aaron to compose himself; and he chastised himself for the strength of his reaction. He should have outgrown swooning over handsome faces decades ago, and for the most part felt like he’d succeeded. He blamed the fatigue from the journey and the fact he’d spent six weeks in the company of nothing but rough sailors.

It did not help that Captain Rovia was one of the handsomest men Aaron had seen, even in rumpled rumpled flying leathers with long hair in a messy topknot and a full beard on his cheeks. Such flaws only drew attention to how well-made the whole was; a face with arched brows, sharp cheekbones, and a generous mouth with full lips built for smiles. Aaron thought that even if he were not an invert a man could not look at that mouth without wondering what it must feel like against his own, or against even more intimate parts of his person.

Aaron blushed scarlet, it would not do to think so of a man he would be forced to work in close quarters for the next several months to half a year. Even if he successfully concealed such thoughts it would make the coming journey awkward and unpleasant, at least on his end. He swallowed, his neckcloth suddenly feeling unbearably hot and stiff; and crossed the remaining distance between them.

Aaron was nearly stopped a second time when Captain Rovia became aware of him and their eyes met. Rovia’s eyes were as striking and lovely as the rest of the man, an odd shade that seemed to shift from blue to green depending on how the light hit them. Aaron squeezed the fingers of his left hand into a fist and cleared his throat, “If I may be so bold, do I have the honor of addressing Captain Rovia?”

Aaron was right about that mouth being made for smiles, the one Rovia gave made him flush even hotter than the Georgia sun above him. Captain Rovia’s extraordinary eyes were made for smiles as well, bright and sparkling with the corners crinkling in a most charming fashion. He offered Aaron a hand that was clad in a leather glove, “You do indeed. I take it _I_ have the honor of addressing Mr. Raleigh?”

Aaron clasped the offered hand and confirmed that he was indeed Mr. Raleigh, and that it was his greatest pleasure to make Captain Rovia’s acquaintance. The other man made similar sentiments, and Aaron found he held onto Rovia’s hand a fraction too long, lost in those smiling eyes. He let go quickly, hoping the Captain didn’t notice. To hide his impropriety he said quickly, “I am grateful for the courtesy, but must admit I did not expect to find you already here.”

“Saw your ship coming from the air,” Captain Rovia said easily, “Thought I’d get introductions over and done with, no sense of standing on ceremony. Come, you must be shattered! Forgive the presumption, but I took the liberty of arranging lodgings for you just down River Street. We can walk there if you like, and send a man for the rest of your luggage.”

“I’d be grateful for the opportunity to stretch my legs,” Aaron replied.

“Indeed; you should take as many opportunities as you have for _that_ before we leave. It’s four days’ flying to Cahokia, and there’s even less opportunities to stretch your legs on a dragon’s back than on a ship’s deck.”

Aaron’s heart fluttered anxiously; he had never ridden on a dragon’s back before, never even seen one up close until he and Grace arrived in Halifax the previous fall. Those dragons had all been Native breeds, less than twice the size of a draft horse but still rather startling to see landing on the streets mere meters away. Heavyweights capable of carrying a crew of two dozen men were a common sight during the Occupation, but Aaron had only seen those from a great distance. Although in those early months after Eric’s death he supposed an entire regiment of Regal Coppers could have pranced before his eyes and he would have taken no notice of them.

Captain Rovia must have seen his expression, for he continued, “I assure you it’s quite safe. Well, safe as a thing can be. Safer than trying to explore the interior by river with no aerial support.” He said the last with a wry smile.

Aaron answered with a smile of his own at this reference to Jefferson’s Folly, ten years and no one had forgotten the Corps of Discovery’s disastrous mission. Four months into the journey they held their first meeting with a representative of the Lakota, who according to reports possessed perhaps the only naturally occurring heavy weights on the continent. The meeting had begun with all apparent friendliness until one of the expedition leaders made the mistake of wrapping an infant of the tribe in a flag and proclaiming him “an American.” The Lakota people might have understood the gesture but their dragons didn’t. According to the reports of the expedition’s only two survivors the beasts believed the Corps was attempting a kidnap, or claiming ownership over the Lakota people entire. Ghastly business, full of mistakes Aaron did not intend to repeat, which was why he would be swallowing all natural fears and climbing aboard a dragon’s back.

As they made their way from the docks to the inn Aaron became aware of the stares they were receiving. Or rather the stares Captain Rovia was; loathing, fear, contempt. Aaron thought he was imagining things at first, as Captain Rovia appeared oblivious to them. It could not be ignored when they reached Aaron’s lodgings and the proprietor tried to claim despite whatever arrangement the Captain had made there were absolutely no rooms available.

“Oh?” Captain Rovia said, sounding neither angry nor surprised, “That is a shame; I’m to escort Mr. Raleigh to Cahokia in a week’s time. I should hate to think our departure from this fair city should be delayed.”

The hotel proprietor grudgingly confessed that a room might be available after all. They were coldly shown to a small room overlooking the busy street. Aaron did not complain, simply thanked the man and asked to be informed when his luggage arrived from the ship.

“Cozy enough,” Captain Rovia said, eying the room sardonically.

“Captain,” Aaron said slowly, “If there is some trouble I am unaware of—“

“Trouble is that almost everyone in this city despises me,” Rovia replied easily, “Or rather the Government, of which I am a representative.”

Aaron nodded in comprehension. It made sense given the reason for Captain Rovia being in Savannah rather than New York or Boston, both cities being half the distance from Halifax as it was to Savannah. Earlier in the year the president issued an emergency resolution temporarily closing down all slave markets in the colonies citing fears of a Tswana invasion. A sensible decision —if not as far as one could hope— especially since reports from Rio indicated that a substantial force had been left in South America permanently. He imagined the local plantation owners as well as merchantmen who had gotten rich off the trade were less than happy with the man sent to reinforce the ban.

“Oh indeed,” Captain Rovia said when Aaron inquired, “They’re all in an uproar, sending petitions to Washington daily, demanding the markets reopen.” He snorted, “The prevailing belief is that the reports from Brazil are exaggerated and if invasion comes we can fight it off. Madness and a stain on this nation. I don’t think we could recover from the disgrace if we came to a war over preserving slavery.”

“Surely it won’t come to that,” Aaron said, relieved the man was abolitionist or at the very least sympathetic to the cause. “Especially with the Tswana so close, surely if they cannot be persuaded by moral means to give up the practice they can be swayed in the interest of self preservation.”

“I’m starting to lose hope in a peaceful resolution. The Tswana will have burned New Orleans and Savannah both to the ground and these merchants will still be howling over their lost coins,” Captain Rovia sighed, “At any rate so far all that’s come about is talk. Daryl and I are here less to enforce orders than to be an example of what a heavy weight is and can do. The Tswana have dozens at least, even if reports are exaggerated.”

Aaron stared at him, “Who’s Daryl?”

Captain Rovia stared back, “My dragon.”

“You named your dragon _Daryl_?”

“He named _himself_ Daryl,” Rovia said, lips quirking, “After a trapper he ate once.”

Aaron froze. “Surely,” he said, “Surely you’re joking?” He might never have only seen a dragon up close the previous fall but he still knew for the tame breeds eating human flesh was as taboo as it would be for Aaron himself.

Rovia’s lips quirked again, “I suppose he could’ve lied to me about that, but he’s not prone to lying, is my Daryl.”

“Your dragon is a man-eater?” Aaron said, unable to hide how appalled he was, “And he wasn’t shot?”

Rovia’s eyes grew hard. Aaron was tempted to apologize—insulting an aviator’s dragon to his face was a good way to get called out. They were a curious breed, more attached to their dragons than most men were to their wives. Still, he wasn’t happy about the idea of traipsing three thousand miles of Indian country with only a man eating dragon for protection. “He’s not a man-eater,” Rovia said, “It was when he young, before he knew any better. Wild dragons aren’t born _knowing_ not to eat people, they’ve never seen them before.”

“Sorry,” Aaron said slowly, “do you mean to tell me this Daryl is a _wild_ dragon? One that eats men?”

“He doesn’t eat men. Currently. Look, we’ve been flying together for twenty years, he’s quite safe.” Captain Rovia thought a moment, “Well, safe for _us._ Not safe for anyone who would do us harm, which is what we want from him. You’ll see.”

Aaron remained dubious, but Captain Rovia didn’t press and shortly after left him to settle into his room, promising to return in the morning to introduce Aaron properly to Daryl and the crew.

After he was gone the full weight of Aaron’s exhaustion took him. Fortunately he did not have to wait long for his luggage and dislike of Captain Rovia or not the proprietor found it within himself to send a meal up to Aaron’s room. A few hours later saw Aaron in his dressing gown bent over his writing desk, scratching outa brief letter to his superiors informing them of his arrival and successful rendezvous with Captain Rovia. After outlining the bare facts he sealed it in an envelope and began a second letter, taking more care as it was intended for Grace. This one he tucked back in with the rest of his papers, he would wait until he’d met Captain Rovia’s dragon and could describe the experience in detail before posting it. Grace had found the dragons of Halifax far less intimidating than her Papa did, she was mad for them. When he’d left he thought her jealousy over the fact Aaron would meet one of the _big_ dragons outweighed her grief at being left parentless for several months. Business thus attended Aaron was able to at last retire to bed and a well-earned rest.

Aaron found sleep difficult to come by despite physical exhaustion, his mind awake and working out the steps of the journey. When at last he fell into an uneasy slumber he dreamed of Captain Rovia’s eyes and his smiling mouth.

************

Aaron had been hoping rest and distance would have done something to curb the affect Captain Rovia had on him but it made not a jot of difference. When he arrived in the morning to collect Aaron the aviator was every bit as handsome as remembered from the night before, his odd-colored eyes just as easy to get lost in, his mouth just as inviting of kisses. Aaron resigned himself to the next months being awkward, or at least until familiarity was enough to inure him to the Captain’s physical charms.

It could not come a moment too soon, Aaron found himself quite slow-witted on their journey to Daryl. Captain Rovia and his dragon had made camp on the outskirts of the city several miles downriver, too far to walk and necessitated traveling on horseback. Rovia carried the conversation cheerfully as they made their way, not seeming to notice Aaron’s silence, or at least not troubled by it. They had to leave the horses behind and travel on foot the final stretch of their journey to meet Daryl; few horses could get with in scenting distance of a dragon and remain calm.

As they made their approach Aaron remembered what Captain Rovia’s beauty had made him forget— he was about to meet a heavy weight dragon that was apparently a man-eater. He wasn’t sure if Rovia was having him on, getting a bit of amusement at the dragon novice’s expense. It didn’t matter, Aaron supposed, if it were truth or fiction. Once the Captain had planted the suggestion Aaron found he could not stop thinking on it. Reluctantly, he followed Captain Rovia to the riverbank. This area of the Savannah River was swampy, trees growing thick and crushingly hot.

“There he is,” Captain Rovia said when they reached the edge of the river, “Hunting for alligators, loves the taste of them. Daryl! Come and meet Mr. Raleigh.”

Aaron had a fraction of a second’s confusion; he didn’t see a dragon, or anything big enough to hide a dragon. Just a muddy riverbank and a small, rocky outcropping several yards from shore not quite big enough to be called an island. Which was when the outcropping moved, and Aaron realized that it was small for an island but bloody _massive_ for what it was: a dragon’s head.

Daryl had been lying in the muddy waters crouched down with just his eyes and nose above the surface, much like an alligator himself. When Captain Rovia called his name he lifted himself out of the water. Head. Neck. Shoulders. More and more Daryl came out of the river, water cascading down his sides. Aaron realized that the small couriers he’d seen throughout Nova Scotia had done nothing to prepare him for being in the presence of his first heavy weight. Aaron tried to estimate the creature’s size, judging from how high his head and shoulders were the entire best was at least a hundred feet long, much of that length coiled up at the bottom of the river. Daryl’s entire head was bigger than a cart horse, his snout was short and his heavy jaw was stippled with a beard of wickedly sharp looking spikes. Curving above his narrow eyes were two twisted horns twice as long as the rest of his entire head. His neck was short for a dragon, thick with muscle, as were his massive shoulders and forelegs. Dangling from his mouth were the mangled carcasses of several alligators, and as Aaron watched Daryl whipped his head back and snapped his jaws jaws open and closed, swallowing down his catch in a burst of blood and gore.

“Christ almighty,” Aaron whispered. His knees weren’t knocking but it was a near thing.

“You’re a mess,” Captain Rovia said, wading a few feet into the river, and Aaron had to fight the instinctual urge to yell at him to _run._ Aaron _did_ bleat out in fear when Daryl ducked his massive head down, moving faster than an animal his size should have been able and gently nudged Captain Rovia back to the shore.

“River’s crawlin’ with gators,” the dragon rumbled. His voice was hoarse and gravelly yet surprisingly quiet for such a massive creature, “You wanna get et?”

“Figured you’d scared ‘em all off,” Rovia said, grinning up at that monstrous face. Aaron didn’t think that even Eric had ever looked at him with a fraction of the adoration Captain Rovia had when looking at his beast.

“Yer gonna get yourself kilt if’n you don’t stop to think,” the dragon muttered. Then the massive head swung in Aaron’s direction. His muzzle was splashed with blood and gore, and Aaron noted distantly that the teeth protruding out over the dragon’s lower jaw were larger than his entire hand.

Daryl’s nostrils flared, and there was a blast of hot air. Aaron’s hat went flying. The dragon’s forked tongue flicked out, scenting the air. Aaron’s knees weren’t knocking but he was trembling. He forced himself to stand straight, shoulders back, and say, “Hello, Daryl. Captain Rovia was telling me about you, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Aaron Raleigh.” He was proud that his voice only shook a little.

Daryl stared at him. His eyes were slate blue, and small in comparison to the rest of him, which meant they were still the size of dinner plates. He didn’t speak as second after second ticked by.

“Daryl, don’t be a scrub,” Captain Rovia said, slapping his dragon’s neck with affection. “Say hello to him. Let him know you’re not planning on eating him.”

“Ain’t decided that yet,” Daryl grumbled, turning back to Captain Rovia, dismissing Aaron completely, “I want to go flying.”

“Soon, dearest,” Captain Rovia said, stroking his dragon’s nose, “I have to see Mr. Raleigh back to his inn. Unless you want him to come with us on a flight? Get him used to dragon back?”

“No,” Daryl replied. Without another word he slid back into the river, making the water and mud surge out over the bank all the way up to Aaron’s boots. He resumed his alligator catching position, just his eyes and nostrils above the surface.

Captain Rovia rolled his eyes, “You’re going to have to get used to carrying him,” he called to his dragon, “it’s three thousand miles overland to the Pacific. Could be more!”

In response Daryl jerked even that last tip of his head underwater. Massive bubbles rose up, briefly turning the placid river into a stewing cauldron. Then the surface was still, and if Aaron had not just seen him he wouldn’t have believed that a twenty-five ton dragon was lurking beneath the surface of the river. That fact was more than a little terrifying.

Captain Rovia sighed, “He’ll be down there sulking for awhile, he can hold his breath for almost twenty minutes.”

“Oh,” Aaron said faintly, then, “I’m sorry, did I do something to offend him?” He’d been warned that dragons could be capricious and easy to provoke, particularly the large breeds.

Captain Rovia sighed again, “No, he can just be a bit prickly. But he’ll warm up to you eventually. Come along, Mr. Raleigh. I can introduce you to the crew; you’re sure to get a warmer reception.”


	2. May 2-7, 1814. Savannah.

Daryl had just decided to head into Savannah and start knocking down hotels until he found the one where Mr. Raleigh was staying when Paul returned to camp. He was almost disappointed; but supposed it was for the best. Paul would have yelled at him even if he _didn’t_ eat Mr. Raleigh, which he’d considered doing seeing as he’d be yelled at anyway.

Paul stood in the clearing by the river with his arms folded and staring up at him in disapproval, which Daryl ignored. Instead he carefully picked up one edge of his harness in his talons and pulled it over his shoulders. Paul sighed audibly and let Daryl pick him up as well and raise him to the spot at the base of Daryl’s neck. The light harness was designed for one rider and Paul was able to secure it by himself. Daryl twisted his head around to nuzzle him and asked, “Strapped in tight?” As soon as Paul said yes Daryl spread his wings and leapt into the air.

“Stay away from town,” Paul called out, “Go inland, follow the river.” Daryl didn’t respond, just altered his course, heading toward the setting sun. They left Savannah behind them, in minutes they were past cultivated lands and over forests.

It was good to just stretch his wings and fly freely. Daryl reminded himself that in a week they’d be flying from this wretched city for good and going out into the wilderness of the Frontier. Far more exciting and interesting than what they were doing here; Daryl could scarce wait to be off. He was bored with Savannah, bored with making sweeps over the city doing nothing but roaring and being intimidating. It was embarrassing, showing away to a bunch of men with no dragons to stop Daryl from squashing them as he pleased. The whole thing was nothing but foolishness, he could not understand men. It seemed perfectly reasonable to _him_ that the Tswana dragons would make war in an effort to find their stolen crews, Daryl would have torn the earth apart if someone had taken Paul from him. Even if men couldn’t understand the dragons’ feelings surely the could their fellow man’s. They understood it well enough ten years ago when they shipped Daryl’s entire formation across the ocean to fight the Barbary Corsairs in answer for the American sailors they’d snatched up. When he’d asked Paul his Captain had sighed and said that this was one of the many areas dragons proved to be more sensible than men.

They had only been aloft an hour when Paul mentioned the one blight on their planned trip across the continent. “So. Do you want to explain what that was about?”

“Dunno what you mean,” Daryl replied.

“You were rude to Mr. Raleigh. Even for you.”

Daryl pretended not to hear him. Instead he twisted upward, beating his wings hard, climbing up higher and higher. A thousand feet off the ground, two, five, higher, until his lungs were burning. When he was at the highest he could go he folded his wings and dropped into a dive. Paul yelled with delight as they plummeted toward the ground. He snapped his wings open after less than a minute of free fall, making them shoot up again and Paul give another shout of delight. Daryl drifted slowly downward until he was low enough his claws brushed the tops of the trees as he sailed over them. Paul was laughing, and Daryl was just congratulating himself on making his Captain forget about Mr. Raleigh when he spoke, “So. Why don’t you like him? He was perfectly polite to you.”

Daryl grumbled, “Don’t see why I gotta like him.”

“No, you don’t _have_ to like him. But why don’t you?”

His jaw clenched and he beat his wings harder, sending hem zipping over the tree line.

“ _Daryl…”_

Daryl growled, then spat out, “Overheard you talking to Tara last night. Saying he was a ‘handsome figure’. Didn’t look like much to _me,”_ he said, a note of petulance in his voice. In fact Mr. Raleigh seemed entirely too tall with very stupid skinny arms and legs, and dressed plainly on top of that.

“Oh lord,” Paul said, “Is _that_ all?”

“Ain’t that enough?” Daryl sputtered in outrage, “After Daniel—“ he snapped his jaw closed, Paul did not like discussing Daniel with him, anymore than Daryl liked thinking about him. He was still angry Paul hadn’t let him eat the little scrub.

“Daryl, I explained to you about Daniel,” Paul said, “That sort of thing doesn’t…we weren’t being careful.”

“They’d’ve hanged you, that’s what Alexandria said,” Daryl growled. Admiral Grimes’s dragon had given him a dressing down after the whole thing, chastising him for failing to look after his Captain properly and letting him get into trouble. Her rebuke still smarted, all the more so for the justice of it. Paul’d explained years ago that Daryl wasn’t to speak of his affairs with other men to anyone, it was illegal and could get him into trouble. Paul’d never said anything about _hanging_ , though. It was little comfort; Daryl knew he should’ve asked or found out for himself. Of course if anyone tried to hang Paul then Daryl would put a stop to it, but what if they snatched him up in secret while Daryl was somewhere sleeping or hunting? They could hang him before Daryl got back; he’d kill them all of course but Paul would still be dead.

“We talked about that too! They almost _never_ hang men, half the Navy would be on the gibbet if they did.”

“We ain’t in the Navy,” Daryl said.

“It’s the same crime, and dealt with in the same fashion. Worst that would happened would be dismissal from service, and you and me would turn wild.”

Daryl muttered, “That don’t sound so bad to me.” In fact it sounded quite fine, going into the wilderness away from men, or at least the Colonists with their rules about what men could do that all made very little sense to _Daryl._ Again, he did not understand the ways of men. He’d asked Paul why his activities were so dreadful as to warrant a death sentence and his Captain could not provide a satisfactory answer. Men were very strange, especially when it came to breeding. Paul had tried to explain it to him, that it was quite nice for men, and not always about breeding, or _ever_ about breeding in his case. It all sounded exceedingly stupid for Paul to do something that might get him arrested or _hanged,_ and Daryl doubted very much that it was nice enough to justify all the worrying and misery he was forced to endure whenever Paul’s eyes got caught by _handsome figures._

“Look,” Paul said, a weary note in his voice, “Even if I think Mr. Raleigh is handsome most men aren’t like me. They prefer women, you know. Most men are actually repulsed by the idea.”

As far as Daryl was concerned there were plenty; too many. Since Daniel there hadn’t been any that Daryl knew of, but Paul could be sneaky about such things, claiming it was none of Daryl’s business. Daryl disagreed —vehemently— anything that could get Paul hanged was his business. He’d only found out about Daniel when the soldiers had tried to arrest Paul and Admiral Grimes and Daryl both had to stop them. Besides Daniel Daryl knew about Alex and Mr. Strand; and he _also_ knew about the Pasha’s man in Tripoli after the peace treaty had been signed although Paul thought he didn’t.

It was vexing, none of those men had been worthy of his Paul even if they hadn’t put him at risk of being hanged. No man was as far as Daryl was concerned; although Admiral Grimes came close. Daryl thought it would have solved some problems if the Admiral were to take a liking to Paul _that way._ Unfortunately when he brought it up with Paul he had been vehement that was _not_ going to happen, _ever,_ and to please never speak of it again to anyone. Daryl supposed it was just as well; Alexandria might not’ve approved.

“What if Mr. Raleigh is like you?” Daryl asked after a long silence.

“If he is then nothing will come of it; there won’t be much in the way of privacy once we’re on the frontier. The crew indulges me but not that far.”

This mollified Daryl somewhat—in addition to the crew Daryl would also be on hand to stop Paul from being stupid. It was still disagreeable that such a step should be necessary; Mr. Raleigh did not seem to possess any qualities of merit that Daryl could see, _handsome figure_ or no. “What about after? When we get back?”

Paul sighed, “In the extremely unlikely event that Mr. Raleigh is like me I will get your permission before we commit any hanging offenses. Is that agreeable?”

“Promise?” Daryl asked. He would never give permission anyway but Paul didn’t need to know that.

“I promise,” Paul said.

Daryl rumbled happily. Paul could be quite foolish when it came to _handsome figures_ but once he’d promised Daryl something he would not go back on it. Mind at ease he did not try to protest when Paul said it was time for them to return to Savannah.

************

Daryl was able to put Mr. Raleigh out of his mind until two days before they were scheduled to depart for Cahokia when Paul brought him for a second meeting with Daryl.

“I want to show him how to hook onto your harness, dearest,” Paul explained.

“Why? He can stay bellow with the ground crew,” Daryl said. During flight the ground crew stayed tucked away in the belly netting attached to Daryl’s harness. It kept them perfectly safe but it was not so easy to look at them or talk to them or acknowledge they existed at all when they were down there. It seemed the perfect place for Mr. Raleigh.

Paul folded his arms, “Because it’s important for him to know what’s going on. He is the diplomat, after all.”

Seemed like an excuse to Daryl, one he could not call out as much of the crew was present making preparations for the journey. Tara was the only one Daryl trusted when it came to the secret of Paul’s proclivities toward other men. Daryl valued the rest of them and no dragon could be said to have a _better_ crew, but Paul’s safety was too precious a thing to be careless with.

“I do not wish to cause undo strife,” Mr. Raleigh muttered to Paul in a low voice, as though Daryl could not hear him.

“You aren’t,” Paul said at normal volume, then to Daryl, “He can take Carl’s place up top; Henry can stay below for now.”

 _That_ did not please Daryl; he was still smarting at the loss of one of his favorite crew members. It did not seem fair to Daryl that he should part with one of his crew just because he was the son of Alexandria’s Admiral and they wanted to take him with them to Brazil for the summit with the Tswana. Shiva and Captain King had generously provided a replacement with Henry but the boy was nowhere near as good as Carl. Still he was undoubtedly better than Mr. Raleigh.

There was nothing for it, however. Daryl snorted and stretched his fore claw out so Paul could climb on. Once he was secure he turned to Mr. Raleigh and said, “It’s quite safe.” Daryl snorted again, of course it was safe. No matter how much he’d like to toss Mr. Raleigh in the river he could not do it so long as Paul was in the same claw.

Mr. Raleigh looked up at Daryl, face pale, and started climbing up. Mr. Raleigh’s stupid skinny arms and legs weren’t strong enough to do it on his own so Paul had to reach down and offer him his hand. Daryl had to fight to keep from growling. He lifted the two men up to his shoulder and felt them climb off. Daryl listened with half an ear as Paul escorted Mr. Raleigh past his shoulders, explaining how to hook to the main harness using carabiners.

“You can also use them to move about the main harness while we’re in flight,” Paul said, “By hooking and unhooking them.”

“I don’t expect that shall be necessary,” Mr. Raleigh replied, “Or at least I pray it won’t be.”

“Daryl is a steady flyer, and he will not let you fall.”

 _I would so,_ Daryl thought to himself.

“It’s quite simple,” Paul said, “Here, attend to me.”

Daryl twisted his head to watch, he could just make out Mr. Raleigh awkwardly crab walking alongside the ridges of his spine, clipping one of the carabiners in place.

No matter what Paul said later Daryl did _not_ cough on _purpose_ at just that moment. Even if he had how was he to know that Mr. Raleigh’s stupid skinny legs would slip out from underneath him and he’d going sliding down Daryl’s side? At any rate he was stopped from falling right off by the tethers of his harness and Daryl was crouched down low, the fall would not have hurt him. Instead he merely dangled from his harness like a marionette.

 _“Daryl,”_ Paul hissed in a low voice as he made his way over to Mr. Raleigh to help him to his feet. He offered the man his hand again, and clapped his shoulder besides, the other hand against Mr. Raleigh’s chest. Daryl snapped his head back around to the front, tail lashing with agitation. He was vaguely aware that Mr. Sutton, who had been working on the armor at his tail, was jumping back and cursing him.

At last Mr. Raleigh and Paul were climbing back down, the former pale and shaken and the latter glaring up at Daryl in a way that promised there would be a lecture in his future. Stuff.

Much to Daryl’s displeasure instead of staying to help the crew in their preparations Paul made to leave not long after. “I’m going to see Mr. Raleigh back to his inn—“

“Why?” Daryl asked, “He ain’t figured out how to get back on his own yet?”

“We have things to discuss,” Paul replied, words clipped. Daryl was going to get yelled at later, it hardly seemed fair.

Again Mr. Raleigh muttered in a low voice, “If I’ve agitated him and you need to calm him—“

“Talkin’ bout someone right in front of ‘em is rude,” Daryl growled, “I ain’t _agitated.”_

Mr. Raleigh gaped at him then stammered out, “I do beg your pardon, I intended no offense.”

“And you’ve caused none,” Paul said firmly, “Daryl is just anxious to be away from this city. As are we all. Come, Mr. Raleigh.”

Daryl watched the two men leave with narrowed eyes, talons tapping restlessly against the earth, barely aware of the crew swarming around him. In the evening when they started to make their way back toward the city Daryl called Tara back to him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Daryl craned his neck to make sure the rest of the crew was out of earshot. He could never quite judge human hearing, he either over or underestimated it. He ducked his head to Tara and whispered, “Has Paul been spending time with Mr. Raleigh?”

“Of course he has,” she replied, “They have a lot of work to do.”

Her puzzlement over Daryl’s line of questioning didn’t seem feigned.“Alone?” he asked sharply.

Tara colored when she realized what Daryl was driving at, “I know what you fear, and I assure you nothing of that nature has occurred.”

Daryl clawed at the earth restlessly; perhaps Paul simply liked Mr. Raleigh’s company, hard as it was for Daryl to believe. Or Mr. Raleigh did not care for men the same way Paul did.

“If it puts your heart at ease,” Tara said, “Mr. Raleigh was married some years ago, and had enough affection for his wife that he still wears a mourning ring.”

It did _not_ put Daryl’s heart at ease; Mr. Raleigh might have thought he preferred women until he met Paul. Daryl did not understand much in he way of human beauty but he did not believe he was being partial by acknowledging that his Captain was a particularly handsome and well-made man. Unlike Mr. Raleigh with his ridiculously long legs that called a stork to mind. “Keep yer eyes on ‘im,” Daryl ordered Tara, “He’s stupid sometimes.”

Tara assured him with all appearances of solemness that she would do as commanded but Daryl could still sense she was trying not to laugh at him. He wished he could ask more of the crew to act as chaperones, preferably Abraham or Mr. Scott, both of whom could've snapped Mr. Raleigh like a twig. There was nothing for it but to wait, and resolve to keep a close eye on Paul once the journey began.


	3. May 2-7, 1814. Savannah.

Captain Rovia was right about getting a warmer reception from Daryl’s crew than from the dragon himself. Being aviators and Americans meant they were prone to informality in a way that would be shocking to most gentlemen of Aaron’s acquaintance. However given a choice between excessive familiarity and cold disapproval Aaron knew which he preferred. Particularly when that cold disapproval came from a twenty-five ton dragon.

Still, it took everything he had to contain his shock when he was introduced to Captain Rovia’s First Lieutenant. Lieutenant Chamber was a cheerful, pretty woman with long black hair pulled back in a braid who greeted Aaron with perfect friendliness, pretending not to notice his stammering when she shook his hand. It was not quite as startling as it would have been to him a decade ago; during the Occupation one of the British Aerial Corps’ greatest secret had come out to much of the Government. Longwings, perhaps the deadliest offensive dragons England possessed, had a particular quirk where they would _only_ accept female handlers. The beasts were too valuable to England’s air strength to give up so the appalling necessity of training up a small number of girls and young women was undertaken. Aaron did not know which of the Native breeds shared this particular quirk and did not ask. She was shockingly informal with Captain Rovia, to the point where Aaron blushed and started to wonder if perhaps they were lovers. He chastised himself for that thought immediately— appalling as the need for female officers was he could not imagine they were treated with anything other than respect.

Second Lieutenant Ford was a big, burly man with gingery red hair and a mustache that curled down over his lips. Like the other aviators he treated Aaron with gruff friendliness, slapping him on the back hard enough to rattle his teeth after they shook hands and offering him a cigar. Third Lieutenant Chakata looked to have some Native or Spanish blood in him, a happy-mannered young man every inch as handsome as Captain Rovia.

The rest of topmen were all midwingmen,including two boys who were runners. Henry, the elder, was steadier and bolder than Sam, a nervous boy of about ten. There were a dozen more topmen including three lookouts— Mr. Andrews, Mr. Holmes, Mr. Monroe; and six riflemen— Mr. Scott, Mr. Crazy Dog, Mr. Gomez, Mr. Alden, Mr. Gallner, and another Mr. Holmes, the elder brother of the lookout.

The number of bellmen was smaller, only a team of seven under the general command of a Mr. Porter, an odd and strangely intense man. Captain Rovia informed Aaron this was unusual, Daryl normally had a dozen men responsible for his harness and armor. The captain had sent a few hands with the party going to Brazil, Alexandria in particular needed more crew. He informed Aaron he was hoping to recruit a few men when they reached Cahokia.

“Ambassador Lantaniak has no crew,” Aaron said, “Is that because his beast is so small?” As Aaron understood it, his American counterpart’s dragon was one of the Native breeds, less than a quarter of Daryl’s size.

Captain Rovia shook his head, “Most of the Tribes traditionally only have one rider per dragon, no matter how big. But Konkontu is big enough to carry more if needs must.”

“Have you met him, then?” Aaron asked.

“We recently became acquainted, yes,” Captain Rovia replied, “A very fine fellow. I understand you have not yet had the pleasure?”

Aaron shook his head, “Written correspondence only, but ten years of that.”

Rovia looked impressed, “Well, then I daresay you know him better than I.”

Aaron shrugged, "There is only so much one can learn of a man's character from a letter. Ten minutes of conversation in person is worth more than ten years of letters."

Captain Rovia smiled, "Well, within a fortnight you shall know him better than I. Once we leave for Cahokia it's less than four days of flying. I hope you're ready."

************

Aaron’s second meeting with Daryl went just about as well as the first. When they arrived in the clearing by the river Daryl was sitting sphinx-like and around his bulk. It was the first good look Aaron had gotten of Daryl in his entirety. His memory had not exaggerated the beast’s size, if anything now that he could see the whole he was even more massive. A hundred feet long and perhaps twenty-five feet at his withers, bulky and powerful. His hide was reddish brown at his head and forelegs that gradually darkened to almost black at his chest and back. The wings folded against his back were pale, almost white at the membranes. His spine had a row of spikes, some of them as tall as Aaron himself.

The dragon’s head swung around when Captain Rovia called out to him. Dragon faces weren’t particularly _expressive_ so Aaron tried to tell himself it was just paranoia that made him think Daryl was scowling at him. Something that was harder to convince himself of when the Captain explained he wanted to show Aaron how to hook onto his harness.

“Why? He can stay bellow with the ground crew.” The dragon was looking at Aaron with clear dislike, and his nostrils flared and those massive talons clawed at the earth.

Captain Rovia folded his arms, “Because it’s important for him to know what’s going on. He is the diplomat, after all.”

The dragon hesitated again, his vast form quivering with tension. His already narrow eyes were thin slits, just the barest hint of slate blue glittering beneath heavy lids.

 _He does not like me,_ Aaron thought. An observation that was reinforced when Daryl almost knocked Aaron from his back a few minutes later. Aaron was distracted and nervous, both from Captain Rovia’s proximity and the work he was learning to do. It was a terrifying thought, to crawl over a dragon’s harness while the beast was in flight. He was just getting the hang of clipping the carabiners in place when the dragon coughed and Aaron went tumbling down his side.

Aaron was not finished putting his foot in it, before they left he whispered to Captain Rovia that if Daryl was agitated by all means stay and settle him, only for the dragon to point out (quite correctly) that discussing a person in front of them is rude. Especially if the person in question weighed twenty-five tons, could swallow him whole, and had some truly _astonishing_ hearing.

************

That evening Aaron dined with Captain Rovia for the fourth times in the privacy of his rooms, and he was beginning to think that no amount of familiarity would inure him to the man’s physical charms. The moment Captain Rovia removed his coat and gloves so Aaron finally got a good look at his figure featured prominently in his dreams that evening. Other than his height—a good deal shorter than Aaron himself— the man’s body had been a mystery under his flying leathers. Aaron saw he was small and compact, with unexpectedly broad shoulders and well muscled arms. He didn’t wear a neckcloth and Aaron’s eyes kept being drawn to the hollow of his throat as they ate.

Fortunately they had a great deal to discuss, and after an hour Aaron found himself as interested in what the man had to say as staring at his handsome face and well-made figure. Most of the time. By this dinner the two men had gone off discussing the expedition in favor of discussing their own pasts.

“How did you come to join the Corps?” Aaron asked.

“I ran away from the orphanage when I was seven,” Captain Rovia replied, “I was hard-working and unafraid of dragons, so Captain Greene took me up as a runner on Hiolair. I served on her for five years before leaving her for Daryl.”

Aaron stared at him, “You were made Captain at _twelve?”_ He remembered Captain Rovia claiming he’d been flying with Daryl for twenty years, Aaron had just assumed he was rounding up or was perhaps a few years older than he appeared.

“Mmmm-hmmm,” Rovia said, “It’s unusual but I’m not the youngest man to ever be made Captain.”

Aaron was dimly aware of this, that in England couriers beasts could have captains who were mere boys. Those were small beasts, however, only able to carry one or two men at a time. Not heavy weights with crews of thirty men or more. “Why were you entrusted with so valuable a dragon?” Heavy weights were rare even in England, in North America there were less than a dozen harnessed beasts.

“It has little to do with trust, once a dragon has chosen you. I told you, he was wild. Well, not wild; no dragon grows so large without the help of men breeding them up that way. But he’d hatched in the wild and was on his own for nearly a year, poor creature.”

“Eating trappers,” Aaron said.

Paul shrugged, “Like I said, he didn’t know any better, and he was starving. One of the reasons dragons that big don’t occur naturally most places—just too hard to keep them fed without cattle or some other domesticated beasts.”

“Why didn’t he eat _you_?” Aaron asked. He still wasn’t sure how much of Rovia’s stories he believed— he could not tell if the man was making things up whole cloth or was simply phrasing things in a way he knew would be taken outrageously.

“I asked him very nicely not too,” Rovia said, with a sly smile, “Also I was even smaller and skinnier at twelve than I am now, I would not have made even a mouthful for him. I told him if he let someone be his captain then he’d be fed all the cows he could eat so long as he was willing to fight for us. When we made it back to Fort Oglethorpe he insisted that I be his captain, and no one was prepared to argue with a twenty-five ton dragon. No one except Gregory, but thankfully the other captains saw sense.”

“Gregory?” Aaron asked.

Captain Rovia colored, “Forgive me. Captain Gregory Greene, as was,” his face turned dark, “My time under him was not pleasant. He should never have been put of charge of Hilly, or been an aviator at all. She ended up rejecting him not long after I left her for Daryl. It’s a miracle we were able to keep her in service.”

“I thought that was not possible, once a captain has harnessed a beast—“

“Harnessed! Ha! I forget you’re an Englishman,” Captain Rovia shook his head in amusement, “It’s true, once a dragon has chosen a companion they are almost never persuaded to give them up. Gregory wasn’t Hilly’s original captain, however. His brother Hershel— _Admiral_ Greene—was, took her right out of the shell. He was killed during the Revolution, damned shame. Admiral Grimes served under him as a boy and says he was worth ten of the next best of the Admiralty. Dragons…they take it hard, losing a captain. If they’re going to accept a replacement then the best bet is a close friend or family member; someone who had a connection to their captain and shares their grief. None of Hershel’s children were old enough when he died, so Gregory it was.”

“Yet she rejected Captain Greene eventually,” Aaron said, fascinated. He did the math in his head, “Did one of Admiral Greene’s sons take the dragon up? Is that how you were able to keep her in service?”

Captain Rovia’s lips quirked, “The Admiral had no sons. His daughter Margaret was the only person Hilly would accept, so we have a new Captain Greene now. If I may say so she’s a great improvement.”

Aaron stared at him in shock, “I…I’m sorry, but you mean to say a woman was made captain? Was this dragon particularly valuable to justify this necessity?”

Captain Rovia raised his eyebrows, “You hardly blinked when you met my First, surely you must have noticed that Lieutenant Chambler is a woman.”

Aaron colored, “I did indeed. I just…I assumed it was like with Longwings.” He explained the breeds odd quirk for only submitting to female handlers.

“No, we have no breeds here with such a preference,” Captain Rovia said thoughtfully, “Just finicky beasts with no telling who they’ll take a liking to. It’s foolish to my way of thinking, to halve the number of candidates for a dragon’s affections with no good cause.”

“Surely protecting a woman from the hardships and deprivations of service is good cause.”

“Ah, again I forget that you’re an Englishman and a gentleman at that,” Captain Rovia said drily, “You must forgive my low breeding. I’ve seen woman suffer far greater hardships and deprivations inthan in service, and with far less of a compensation.”

Aaron colored, “I meant no offense, to you or any of your colleagues. I know many women who are of strong mind and constitution but natural sentiments are hard to overcome. I cannot help but think of my own daughter subjected to such a life.”

Captain Rovia’s eyes flickered to the mourning ring on Aaron’s finger, “Yet you _would_ subject her to marriage to a man who she perhaps does not love, who might be cruel or violent to her? Chain her to a life of boredom and misery, with no recourse?”

“I would not allow such a thing to happen to Grace,” Aaron said quietly, “I would not consent to her wedding such a man; she need not marry at all if it does not suit her. She is only five, so happily it is something she still has a great deal of time to think about.”

“Well, you will not live forever, and who is to say some unworthy gentleman might seduce her away, convince her to elope—“

“Captain, I am understanding of the familiarity amongst aviators, but you go too far. I wonder very much that you think such remarks are appropriate to make regardless of familiarity,” his voice was sharp and his grip on his wine glass had tightened.

Rovia’s eyes widened, “I…I must beg your pardon. I grew carried away with the debate, forgetting your daughter was a reality and not an abstraction. Pray accept my apologies.”

Aaron’s grip on his wine glass loosened and he looked away, “Accepted,” he said.

“If you wish me to leave—“

“No,” Aaron said, “it’s quite all right.” His voice was thick and he was overcome for a moment with memories of Abigail and Eric both. He twisted the mourning ring on his finger. To lose Abigail less than a year after Eric had been devastating, caring for her and Grace was the only thing that kept him from succumbing to despair. After her death Aaron thought the only mercy was that Eric had not lived long enough to see his beloved sister die so young, it would have killed him as surely as the bullet had.

When he turned his attention back he saw Captain Rovia’s eyes were soft with sympathy, “It must be hard, on your own. How long since your wife passed?”

“Five years,” Aaron said, twisting the mourning ring, “Long enough that I know I should be considering a replacement, for Grace’s sake at least.” He could not tell Captain Rovia that it was that he could not bring himself to condemn a woman to a life of, as other man had said, boredom and misery to a man incapable of loving her properly. He also did not say that while he had loved Abigail as a sister she was not the person for whom he still wore a mourning ring.

“It is not an exact comparison,” Captain Rovia said after a moment’s silence, “But I know some of the pressure of which you speak. Dragons can live two hundred years or more, particularly big ones like Daryl. I know for his sake I should marry and have children, but I have not found the inclination as of yet.” He gave Aaron a playful smile, “It is a pity you don’t approve; it would solve things nicely if I were to introduce your Grace to Daryl. Then you would not need worry about her welfare.”

“I’m not at all certain of that, Captain,” Aaron said, unsure if he should be offended.

“It was meant in humor, but Daryl likes children very much,” Rovia said, “He’s incredibly gentle with them; known both of Admiral Grimes’ children since they were infants.”

“Forgive me, I do not mean to pass aspersions on his character, but he seems to think very highly of Admiral Grimes, a sentiment he does not extend to me,” Aaron said, then, “He does not like me.”

Aaron waited to see if Captain Rovia would brush it off again, say his dragon was just prickly and would certainly warm up. Instead he just sighed and said, “Oh hell, there’s nothing for it. No, he does not like you, but I assure you it is no fault of your own. Dragons can be as peculiar in their enmity as their affection; prone to strange ideas.”

“What sort of strange ideas?” Aaron asked.

Captain Rovia was very quiet, studying his glass of port rather than Aaron, “I had…well, you have the misfortune of bearing a passing resemblance to an Army Officer I came into conflict with. It’s been resolved, but dragons are protective.”

Aaron had dozens of questions but knew it improper to ask them, the other man clearly did not want to discuss it. “Well, you see why I have some reluctance introducing him to my daughter.”

“I assure you that he’d never harm a child no matter how much he disliked their parent. He despised Captain Peletier but adored his daughter. Poor thing died of flux and Daryl took it very hard. But you’re right, it is for the best that they never meet.”

Captain Rovia left shortly after, admonishing Aaron to get some rest. Tomorrow would be busy finalizing their journey, the following morning they would be setting out. Aaron did his best but he was awake for a very long time pondering over the affections of dragons and—although he knew it was ridiculous—replaying what Captain Rovia had said about not having the “inclination” to get married.


End file.
